


memories that warm from within

by ivyspinners



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Possessiveness, Scars, emotions happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9370535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyspinners/pseuds/ivyspinners
Summary: His body is covered by the marks of his missions, the fingerprints of the Rebel Alliance and his cause. Jyn wouldn't recognize him without them. He belongs to the Rebellion, inside and out, like she is beginning to.Jyn asks Cassian about his scars. He doesn't remember them all.





	

The first time they have sex, it is in the exhilaration of victory, the Death Star a memory. (A terrifying memory burned into the back of her eyes, true, but still a memory.) Afterwards, when they are both sweaty and disheveled and warm from within, she traces the marks across his skin. It is a less dangerous task than to ask about the ghosts at the back of his mind.

There are more scars than memories that accompany them, and somehow this surprises her. He is so precise with every detail of each mission, they seem etched into his mind. They've shared stories of a child dying at her feet, the ridge of his sniper's scope brushing against his cheek. He remembers each and every target. But he does not remember some of the scars.

She traces a sharp line on his right shoulder with a finger. He sighs.

"Issor," he murmurs into her hair, "two years ago. Stray arrow."

"Arrow?" she repeats skeptically. She does not lift her head off his chest; it is more soothing to hear the thrumming of his heart than to see the affection on his face.

"It penetrated our shields, so it worked well enough."

She smooths her palm over that shoulder and slides further down. He is languid, but a muscle twitches beneath her touch. Her lips brush his skin when she smiles. He draws a sharp breath in, tensing in a way that makes her smile turn into a grin.

"And this one?" It is a patch of paler skin, irregular, the size of three fingers. The edges are sharply defined.

"Chemical burn on the Ring of Kafrene," he tells her. She slides her thumb into the crook of his elbow, tracing where the mark thins into lines, and feels his fingers press into her hip, the tiniest hint of his fraying control. "There was a leaking valve where I set up."

It does not escape her notice that he avoids details of the missions. It does not bother her either; Cassian has guarded the Rebellion's secrets this long, not even this, whatever _this_ is, could shake his silence. She would not recognize him if they did.

"You didn't move," she murmurs. It's not a question. Her fingertips follow his scar as it crosses the tendon at his elbow. There, his skin is softer, yielding to her touch. It's one of the few things about Cassian that hasn't turned to the hardness of stone, through the years. Jyn wants to find the other soft parts.

He looks down as she watches his face, and there is softness in his eyes too.

"I knew I wouldn't be there long," Cassian murmurs. "I only needed one shot."

She snorts. "I bet you did."

She pulls her hand from his arm to trail it down his chest, palm brushing across his nipple--his breath catches--and fingers settling in the spaces between his ribs, straddling the line between chest and abdomen. "Here?"

There's a noticeable hesitation from Cassian. His eyes follow her nails, linking a scatter of dark pinpricks, scraping across skin. He brings his hand from her hip, a trail of heat flaring up the curve of her back to reach the nape of her neck. When her nails dig in, he jerks beneath her, and his fingers tangle in the loose waves of her hair.

"Kessel, I think," he says, then shrugs. "I spent the last three days unconscious. I had other things on my mind." He tilts her head back to claim her lips, and she kisses back fiercely, teeth scraping against his lip, pleasure curling low in her belly. It's a distraction, but when she feels his hardness against her thigh, she finds she doesn't care.

Her hands find his, sweetness against the burn of his skin, the roughness of his stubble against her cheek. Their fingers lace together, just this side of desperation, and it gives her the strength to pull back. To see him, laid out under her as she straddles his thighs, conceding this modicum of control.

Cassian mouth is swollen, hair thoroughly disheveled, and pupils blown wide with want. His pulse flutters at his throat. He watches her like she's a star, not a moon cratered by life, reflecting the goals and dreams of the people around her. He's right. The Rebellion makes her burn. _He_ makes her burn, warmth rising in her cheeks, fire in her heart.

"Do you remember them all?" he asks.

She blinks, dazed. "What?" Her gaze falls to where his thumb traces circles on the back of her hand, the crescent where a vibroblade went through skin and tissue. Oh. Jyn shakes her head.

He brings their intertwined hands up, brushes his lips over the mark.

"I still have other things on my mind," he says, and Jyn would groan out loud if she weren't so distracted. "This."

He sits up to find her lips again and she presses flush against him, rocking their hips together. Heat suffuses every inch of her, sparks against her skin. He makes a choking sound, leg shifting between her thighs. Star-bursts of pleasure light up behind her eyes.

His mouth moves down her throat, leaving kisses that burn, and for an instant she catches sight of another scar, curving around the right side of his waist. It's small, but it's there; bacta hadn't been applied quickly enough to wipe away all trace of the injury.

She knows the source of his scar. She dreams about it still. It had been there on Scarif, the sharp edge of a datavault ledge digging into his back, as he'd fallen and crashed and swayed like a puppet with strings cut. The pressure split his skin. He had still been bleeding when he reached the top of Citadel Tower to save her.

His body is covered by the marks of his missions, the fingerprints of the Rebel Alliance and his cause. Jyn wouldn't recognize him without them. He belongs to the Rebellion, inside and out, like she is beginning to.

 _But_ , a voice in her head says, as his tongue traces the ridge of her collarbone, _he's mine too._

It would have scared her, one month ago. It still scares her, but it's hard to think when her body sings from his touch, from the fierceness of the way he holds her, like he won't, can't, let go. Even though everyone else does, and one day maybe he will.

Instead, she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Her teeth scrape against skin, light at first, then deeper, sucking his skin between her teeth. She tastes salt, and sweat, and him. Her nails dig into the muscles of his back, scouring bright red lines in between old scar tissue. He'll have marks tomorrow.

Cassian moans, his hand slipping between her thighs. She digs in harder.

Maybe, on his next mission, his collar will brush the purpled skin on his neck, and it will not be pain he remembers. One more mark on his skin, not obscuring his scars, but adding to them.

Jyn wants to give him marks that fade, but memories that warm from within. Something to hold onto when the day comes, and she knows it is coming, that they no longer stand side by side.

It's this truth that scares her most, truth be told, and she tries not to think about it except in moments like these, when the lines in her mind splinter:

Part of him belongs to her too.

 

fin

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Once upon a time I promised to write post-victory sex. This is, it seems, the closest I can come to racy.  
> 2\. There is no way they'd get together this easily, but I do want I want!!! Besides, I threw all my self-respect out the window when I wrote back-from-the-dead fic.  
> As always, feedback is adored


End file.
